


The Barton Initiative

by cynatnite



Series: The Barton Initiative [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), American Hustle (2013), Mission: Impossible (Movies), S.W.A.T. (2003), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Bourne Legacy (2012), The Hurt Locker (2008), Wind River (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Just threw it all in, Medical Inaccuracies, Nothing matters after the first Avengers movie, SHIELD Husbands, The Author Regrets Nothing, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynatnite/pseuds/cynatnite
Summary: Clint's Uncle Carmine has a few secrets.





	The Barton Initiative

**Author's Note:**

> The character death is at the beginning and not one of the main players. So, I'm bored and this idea has percolated for a while. Apologies ahead of time for this non-beta'd work. Just go with it and try not to get sucked into the canon of these various fandoms. If I could've thrown in Hansel and Gretel, I would've done it.

It tried not to look like a hospital with it’s carpeted hallways and subtle blue walls. Clint caught the odor of bleach mixed a hint of with lemon in a futile attempt to hide the antiseptic smell. This was still a hospital and the uneasiness grew with each step. Getting on the elevator, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

The one who got in last glanced over. “What floor?”

Clint closed his eyes and hated himself for already forgetting.

“Five,” Phil answered.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Clint glanced over. “Thanks.”

Phil’s hand was on his waist in response. Feeling the strength, Clint nodded. The elevator lurched upwards.

Not that long ago, Clint had worshiped and loved Phil from afar. It was just over six years ago when he and Phil got their act together, confessed their love for one another and months later they’d moved in together. They’d been married just over a year now.

He’d never needed his husband more.

Clint’s lost people before. His brother died in prison over three years ago. That loss felt distant and he’d given enough of a burial to call it respectable. He and Barney had made their peace, but that closeness they’d once had was long gone. His time in SHIELD, there’d been losses. It came with the job and Clint had long ago accepted it.

This time was different. This time was family and as close as it could get. For some reason, he never expected things to change. Not really change. Just the kind of change that never touched, from a distance like when he heard that Amy Long had died in a car crash. He hadn’t seen her since his circus days when she’d fold her skinny body into a box for the crowds.

The elevator door slid open and Clint made sure Phil was at his side as they made their way to the hospital room. A small crowd stood outside, quiet and reserved. There were nods, handshakes and one brief hug. They were here for the same reason he was.

Clint pushed the door open and at seeing the frail figure in the hospital bed, he froze. Could he even do this? Feeling Phil’s hand at his back, Clint forced himself to move.

Uncle Carmine gave a smile and Clint couldn’t help but return it.

“Come here, kid.” Carmine held up his hand.

Clint took it and noted the thin skin. He glanced up and tried not to face the truth before him. His uncle wore an oxygen cannula, an IV bag hung on a pole and the monitor’s slow movement told him more than enough.

There were still two of Carmine’s kids in the room watching them.

“Lookin’ good, old man,” Clint told him.

“I’ve always been prettier than you, kid.” Carmine looked to his children. “You all go out in the hallway. I need to talk to your cousin.”

Clint glanced over and despite their hesitation, he watched them and Phil start to leave.

“Phil, you gotta stay, too,” Carmine told him. “You hafta hear what I’ve got to say.”

“If you’re sure.”

“We made a deal, you and I, when we met. Remember?” Carmine reminded him.

Phil nodded. “I do.”

“Uncle Carmine, you’ve got to rest. You need your strength,” Clint insisted.

“It’s no good, kid.” Carmine gazed at Clint, his eyes grew heavy with tears in the corners. “I’m going to see Dolly and there’re things you have to know before I leave.”

Licking his dry lips, Clint reached over and straightened the sheets covering Carmine. It was all he could do to not lose it. His uncle was all the family he had left. The cousins had treated him well enough since they saw fit to see their father again. While Clint didn’t feel quite the closeness with them, Carmine he had bonded with. Carmine was the father he’d never had growing up. The day of him not being in the world was hard to see and Clint bit his lip trying not to let the pain of it overtake him.

“It’s not important.”

Carmine grabbed his wrist. Clint was surprised by the strength of the grip.

“Clint,” Carmine said. “I made a promise to your mother I’d keep my silence about this. It was painful as hell for her, but it was me she told. She’d planned on telling you and your brother when you were older but wasn’t meant to be.”

“What, Uncle Carmine? What is it?”

When Carmine released his wrist, Clint slid the chair over and looked over at Phil who was also sitting across from him.  

“Gimme a drink,” Carmine said. “This’ll take some time and I ain’t dyin’ before I tell you.”

Phil was already pouring water into the cup and helping Carmine before Clint could move. As he watched his uncle, Clint couldn’t figure out what was so important. Phil had already confided in him about the El Dorado and while Clint was resistant to the idea, especially after the kids had returned, he eventually gave in and told Phil he’d take the car.

When Carmine finished, Clint straightened and Phil settled back in his seat.

“I suppose the reason I never told you in the first place might not make sense, but when you came along, I was a lonely old man desperate for someone to give a shit about him.”

Clint faintly smiled. “Come on, Uncle Carmine. You saved me when I was locked up. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“You’re tougher than you know, kid.” Carmine sighed and shook his head. “You’re gonna have to toughen up now because this kind of news will change everything and you’ll hate me for it, but I don’t believe your mother ever meant for this to be something to take to her grave.”

“What is it?”

“Barney was about four years older than you, right?” Carmine asked.

“Yeah, four years and four months.”

“Your old man, Harry, was always a schemer trying to make a buck. The man had dreams the size of a ship.”

“Barney wasn’t much different,” Clint remembered.

“Harry was the moon and the stars for your mother. She’d follow him anywhere and she did for a while. Only it all changed when he talked her into a scheme to make some big money.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“It was before you were born, kid.” Carmine’s voice was lower. He had a hard cough and used some tissue to cover his mouth with. When he finished, he looked at Clint with sorrowful eyes. “There was money to be made as a surrogate.”

Clint’s heart dropped in his gut. “What?”

“She had it all reasoned out in her own mind, Clint. She was gonna give some good folks a baby, ones that had money to take care of it. Eddie was so damn happy she’d give to the world like this.”

“Wait…wait,” Clint stumbled. He still couldn’t grasp the concept.

“Just let me tell you this, Clint. Please!”

“Okay.” Clint stole a look at Phil who appeared as confused as him.

“They went to a clinic in the city. Brooklyn I think.”

“What year was this?” Phil asked.

When Clint saw Phil, he was already typing notes in his phone. Of course, Phil would be the practical thinker right now.

“’The year Clint was born.”

“Just…” Clint was starting to lose it.

“In-vitro fertilization wasn’t…,” Phil started.

“Oh, it was happening,” Carmine assured him. “First test tube baby was long before. From then on, Anyone who couldn’t make a kid came out of the woodwork.” He turned his gaze back to Clint. “We took care of your brother for a few days while they were in the City.”

“How would they get money for me?” None of this was making sense.

“Your mother was carrying more than one baby, Clint.”

“Fuck,” Clint muttered. He leaned forward, covered his eyes with his hands feeling the nausea rising in his gut. He shook his head and then jerked to look at Carmine. “No, you’re wrong, Carmine. Barney and I were all that was left!”

“They pumped her full of hormones to get the eggs. Once they harvested them, they were fertilized and then implanted in your mother,” Carmine said.

“I don’t fucking believe this.” Clint got up and paced back and forth. “We would’ve known! I’ve got a fucking birth certificate, Uncle Carmine!” He stopped and held up an index finger. “One. One kid was all she had! Me!”

“When this place found out how many she was carrying, they paid a shit ton of money to your old man, Clint. He took Eddie back to the clinic where she stayed until she gave birth. They wanted her to term.”

“Term?” There was no way Clint was believing this insane story.

“She made it thirty-two weeks,” Carmine explained. “I made Harry drive me to the clinic to see her.

Clint watched him turn his head away and then the tears flowed freely down the old weathered skin. There was no faking that.

“Thought she’d split apart when I saw her carrying them all. Eddie had her arms around her stomach like she was protecting each and every one of them.” The crying began in earnest. “I begged her to get rid of one or two, but she wouldn’t. For as long as I’ve lived I never forgot the look on her face when she said, “How do I choose which of my babies is going to die?” I couldn’t say anything after that.”

“How many?” Clint hadn’t realized he’d said it until it was out and even then it was just a whisper. He couldn’t even look at Phil. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Carmine. “How many were there?”

“Six.”

The wind left Clint and the room was starting to move. He felt Phil’s hands on his arms as he was guided to the chair. Clint lowered his head and the number repeated over and over in his mind. Phil was talking, asking questions and Carmine was saying something, but in the voices the word “six” was repeated over and over. He looked up when he heard his name. It was Phil.

“Clint, please.”

“I want to hate you for not telling me,” Clint said to Carmine. He wiped away the moisture at his eyes and stood. “I can’t.”

Carmine grabbed Clint’s hand and held it as tight as he could. The man’s knuckles turned white even though the strength had left them some time ago before the cancer began eating away at him.

“Eddie told me that when they were gonna take the babies away, she somehow got a hold of the smallest and wouldn’t let him go for nothing.” When Carmine looked at Clint, his smile was sad. “That was you.”

“What happened to them?” Clint asked.

“Adopted out. Healthy all of them is what your mother said. She wasn’t the same after that, but she had you.”

With his hand still in Carmine’s Clint leaned forward. “Did she ever try to find them?”

“Harry took the money, signed all the papers. He got her to go along and she regretted doing it. She barely got a glance of them. Legally, they said she couldn’t know where they went.” Carmine cried a little. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Clint leaned in and rested his forehead on Carmine’s. “It’s okay.”

When Clint opened his eyes and raised his head, his uncle’s eyes were closed. He saw the slow deep rise and fall of his chest. Keeping hold of Carmine’s hand, Clint leaned in one last time.

“I promise, Uncle Carmine. I’ll find them for you and Momma.”

Clint let go and was guided from the room by Phil. They went for coffee and Clint just stared at his cup as he stirred the swizzle stick around. Few words passed between them and Clint was grateful Phil could see he wasn’t ready to talk. He was making the number six in the coffee over and over.

It was 3:17 am when Carmine Polito passed from the world, with his children surrounding him and Clint standing at the back of the room.

The days that followed was filled with melancholy and memories. Clint flipped through the photo album that was a Christmas gift. The empty pages were being filled with pictures of family, Carmine, a few of his children and more of him, Phil and Natasha. There were still several empty pages left.

After the funeral, Clint was given the El Dorado. He almost didn’t take it. Phil seemed to understand and left an hour prior leaving Clint with the car. Instead of driving back to the city, Clint went to Liberty Park. He sat on a picnic table watching the water and boats for two hours before heading home to be with Phil.

 

~*~

 

Less than a month later, Clint was starting to feel like his life without Uncle Carmine was finding some normal footing. He still heard from Carmine’s kids on occasion, but the calls were becoming more infrequent. He expected it.

After a grueling morning on the range, Clint got a text from Phil and headed to his office after a quick shower and change. Avenger Tower was still overwhelming and while he and Phil stayed at the loft from time to time, they still preferred the privacy of Phil’s place some distance away.

“Hey, boss.” Clint came inside with a saucy grin. “Got all cleaned up just for you.”

After a lengthy kiss, Clint had a victorious look on his face seeing Phil lick his lips.

“Mmm, nice,” Phil said.

“I’m expecting change tonight when we get home,” Clint told him. He sat on the leather sofa and relaxed. “You called?”

Phil pickled up several files and took a nearby chair. “Yes, I have some information for you.”

“Listen, I told Nat if she needed me to do some SHIELD work, the body was willing, but you’ve got me for the next two weeks of downtime.”

“It’s not about that.” Phil shifted the folders in his lap. “Were you still interested in looking for the babies your mother had, Clint?”

Clint leaned forward and shifted uncomfortably. “I made a promise.”

“Clint, no reasonable person would expect you to keep such a promise especially after so much time has passed. Besides, I believe your uncle was relieving himself of a lot of guilt by telling you. He never asked you to find them.”

“Well,” Clint looked down at his hands. “You and I both know it’s what he and Momma would want. If she was alive right now, she’d have already tore the country apart looking for them.”

“Do you want to find them?”

“I don’t know, Phil. You hear stories about how sometimes these things go fucking bad. They don’t want to know you or they don’t know the truth to begin with. I don’t want to rip anyone’s world apart or hurt them.”

“Natasha took the lead on this. She dropped these files off before leaving with Rogers on their mission.”

“She never said a word.”

“She gathered enough for a start, Clint. But what she did find could pose a security problem for you if it hasn’t already.”

“I don’t understand.”

Phil set the files on the table in front of Clint. He nervously straightened them which freaked Clint out. Phil Coulson never got rattled.

“I read the nurses’ notes and crosschecked them with medical to be sure,” Phil explained. “I can only surmise that your mother never told any of this to your uncle.”

“Jesus, Phil, just spit it out.”

“All the babies, the six of you were boys. More importantly, you all were identical.”

“The fuck! Does that even happen?”

“It’s rare and likely part of the reason why this clinic was so insistent no contact was to ever take place from your mother to any of the babies. The contracts I’ve discovered were very specific and ironclad.”

Clint could scarcely believe it. “There could be five other guys out there who look just like me?”

“Perhaps. The records are incomplete, though. What we don’t have are lab tests or physician reports. My guess is the babies were transferred quietly out of the clinic to other facilities.”

Opening one of the files in front of him, Clint breathed in deep and exhaled. “That motherfucker,” he gritted out. “My old man sold his own kids for a few bucks!”

“Likely, but Clint here is something I don’t believe your mother or father were aware of.” Phil took a thick file from the bottom and set it on top before opening it. “The donor sperm may not have been your father’s.”

Clint lashed out and kicked the table over sending the files scattering to the floor. He jumped up and went to the window trying to get a hold of his sanity. This was too fucking much.

“Can’t be true, Phil. It fucking can’t!”

“Your mother is specifically named in the medical records. The sperm are classified as donors. Seeing as there is nothing to corroborate I’m tracking down the staff for questioning.”

“If any of them are still alive,” Clint muttered. He sighed and turned around. “Sorry,” he said with a wave at the scattered files.

“It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t take it well. There was no tactful way to tell you.”

“Okay,” Clint nodded. “We’re doing this.”

“We have to. Being identical potentially puts them at risk. It’s likely they have an idea seeing as your face was on the news for a short time after the attack on New York.”

“I should’ve gotten a visit or two, shouldn’t I?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Phil went to the table and put it back to rights. He and Clint bent down and gathered the papers. “A strong resemblance to someone famous is rarely taken as anything more superficially, a coincidence. You’ve taken care to stay out of the media spotlight since and only get referred to as the archer or Hawkeye.”

“Well, it helps the dolls are blonds,” Clint smirked.

“Action figures,” Phil corrected.

The best blackmail material Clint had on Phil was the man collecting every Hawkeye memorabilia and toy known to exist. The closet at their home was filling up with them.

“Right, boss.”

With the files back together, Phil and Clint took their perspective seats.

“So, how do we start this?”

“I’ve got feelers out for the staff. The clinic wasn’t just a research clinic. It was operating without the proper licenses, but they were well financed. Those records were never computerized so tracing the financial backers could take months if any of them survived.”

“They were likely trying to get a jump start into the infertility field knowing the money it could bring in.”

“Yes, couples were usually desperate enough to pay anything,” Phil agreed. “Finding the facilities where the infants were sent to is quite problematic.”

“You’ve got an idea, though.”

Phil grimly smiled. “Authentic-looking birth certificates are a necessity. Those records have been microfiched and computerized from the last one hundred years or so. I’ve got someone searching for unnamed male newborns born on your birthday within a twelve-hour time frame.”

“Phil, that’s gotta take forever to get done.”

“Not necessarily. Kickbacks would insure the babies went to specific facilities and they needed birth certificates to guarantee adoptions went through.”

“It narrows down the suspects,” Clint said.

“Administration, nursing staff and physicians. Considering the rarity of your mother’s condition, they’d remember her and the infants.”

“Access to this kind of information will be hard to get.”

“It’s why I’m hoping we won't need Jarvis. I don’t want Stark or the Avengers associated with this.”

“SHIELD?”

Phil shook his head. “We’re on our own here.”

Whenever Phil won’t look in his eyes, such as now, Clint knows they’re treading on dangerous ground. “Phil?”

“The Rising Tide,” Phil admitted.

“You’re fucking kidding me. Those are the same assholes who want to lay every secret the fucking world has to the public. It’s Snowden times a million!”

“Let’s just say I’m putting her on the path to a more legitimate place of employment.”

“Oh, so you bribed her,” Clint easily gathered.

“Her name is Skye,” Phil admitted. “That’s all she’ll say and before you ask she has expertly hidden her own background from SHIELD. She’s a talent and we want her on our side.”

“You like her!” Clint laughed. “She suckered you in and you like her!”

“I’ll introduce you, but I dread what’ll happen afterwards,” Phil dryly responded.

 

~*~

 

Operation Sextuplet as Skye was calling it was well underway two weeks later. Compiling the information was a monumental task, but they were nowhere near finding the crucial link between the infants and wherever they were placed. Paper files over the decades had been lost and/or destroyed.

Clint stayed busy tracking down names of staff which kept him out of Phil’s hair. As much as he loved Clint, the man could be underfoot in wanting every tiny piece of information that came their way. Clint’s overthinking could potentially send them off in wildly different directions and fortunately Phil remained focus on the trail no matter how thin it might be.

“There are over 800 babies born in the city daily, AC.” Skye was at her beaten-up laptop putting together a new algorithm. “Just over half are girls and since we don’t know if they got named or not, it doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Start with the unnamed ones,” Phil suggested.

“Already done,” Skye stretched her back. “All accounted for and none of them match your boyfriend.”

“Husband,” Phil corrected.

“Forgot. Sorry. These people have covered their tracks.”

“Paper records are easily destroyed.” Phil added more notations to the growing pile of papers. He wasn’t gaining much headway on the financial end of the investigation. He gave Skye a side-look. “You have a plan.”

The smirk grew, and she shrugged her shoulders. “The algorithm is going to read the doctor’s name on each birth certificate and cross-reference with board certified physicians practicing in the city. Any anomalies will be flagged.”

“Skye…”

“I know, not ideal. Any doctor could’ve been brought into New York City. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Understood.” Phil’s phone went off and he answered it. “Clint, anything? You did?” Phil got to his feet. “I’ll meet you…are you sure? Okay, get back to me.”

Phil swiped the screen and turned his gaze on Skye.

“Clint found a nurse who worked there.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s not sure if she’s lucid enough. She had a stroke a few years ago and is living in an assisted living facility on Staten Island.”

“And he doesn’t want you there.”

“No,” Phil admitted to her as he did himself. It wasn’t easy to accept. “I want to be there for him every step of the way, but this is Clint’s and he has to deal with it in his own way. There was a time when he wouldn’t call on anyone for anything no matter the difficulties or obstacles even at the risk of his own life. He’s grown so much since those days. I trust Clint to call me or Natasha should he need us.”

“Doesn’t make it easy,” Skye observed.

Phil couldn’t answer because she was right.

 

~*~

 

Clint wasn’t sure what he expected when he arrived. The assisted living center was an old apartment-type building that had been updated with all the necessities for an elderly population. It was basically a Budget Inn for old people from the looks of it.

It was only the most dedicated who worked in a place like this. That was painfully clear given what the nurse told him as she led him down the hallway.

“She’s a sweet old lady,” the nurse said. “As long as you don’t piss her off.

“She get angry a lot?”

“Not really. It’s mainly if you don’t make her bed right or if she thinks you haven’t turned one of the residents in a timely manner. Things like that. A part of her will always be a nurse. You never quite turn it off I guess.”

They stopped at a door and the nurse opened it.

“Alice, the nice gentleman I told you about is here.”

In an old rocking chair, the woman sat with her back to Clint. The silver-grey frizzled hair was all he could see from where he was. She kept perfectly still.

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

When Clint was alone with her, he shifted back and forth.

“Don’t just stand there. It hurts when I turn my neck. Get over here.”

Clint hurried to obey and when he looked down, studious brown eyes looked him over.

“I suppose you look honest enough.” Alice chuckled in a low voice. “Not like I got any money for you to steal and I never had good enough looks for the likes of you.” She motioned towards him with her gnarled arthritic hands. “Sit down. I’m not going to bite you.”

“Thanks.” Clint found a footstool to sit on and he rested his elbows on his knees. “I came here…”

“What’s your name? Not talking to you unless I get a name.”

“It’s Clint Barton, ma’am.”

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit and then she shook her head as if willing the cobwebs away. When she tried to push back some grey strands from her eyes, Clint couldn’t help but see how arthritis had twisted and bent the fingers. He glanced down at his own hands and then fisted one.

“Don’t just sit there. Talk.”

“Yes, ma’am. You were a nurse.”

“Fifty-eight years I wiped butts, made beds, and jumped for whatever doctors told me to do.” She tilted her head. “I did a damn good job and I make sure they do it here, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Clint tried to smile, but it was hard with the conversation he was about to have. “About forty years ago or so you worked at a special clinic. Infertility.”

Alice hummed and shook her head. “Didn’t think anyone would ever remember it. We were laid off and the place closed up. Found another job quick enough. Nurses can always find work. Got paid damn fine money, but if I’d been less greedy in those days I’d never have done it. Should’ve just went to Boston to work.”

“Why’s that?” Clint asked.

“Me and the other nurses believed in it. Giving good people a baby to raise was a high ideal.” Alice smiled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I lost my boy in ‘Nam. There’d be no more babies for me, but I could help give that. Least that’s what I told myself.”

She seemed lost in the memories and Clint needed to get her back on track.

“While you worked there, a woman was there who was pregnant.”

“Oh, honey, we had lots of ‘em. Some had two and three babies at once.” She grinned a little. “It was always fun seeing what sex was gonna pop out.” Then the sadness was back again. “Sometimes, it didn’t work so good. A few babies died, born too early with their little lungs not ready to take air.”

“But there was one, she’d had all her babies and they lived, didn’t they?”

“You expecting me to remember that after all these years?” Alice laughed. “Boy, babies were always comin’ and goin’.”

“This one was different, Alice,” Clint softly told her. “She had more than three.”

Alice moved her hands to her lap and stilled. Clint watched her attempt to movie her arthritic fingers, but failed.

“Why would you come here and ask me something like that?” Alice said with a vicious twist of her lips.

“You know what I’m talking about. You remember her because you heard me say her name.”

“That’s when I knew I shoulda never come there. She wanted those babies somethin’ fierce and that man of hers only cared about the money they’d bring him. He’d be all nice, tryin’ to keep her well until she gave birth. It was all about the money.”

“Were you there when she…” Clint couldn’t finish asking the question.

“Standard SOP was to always keep a small OR staff on call. Her water broke before they got there. So many babies just tryin’ to live and they were killin’ her tryin’ to get out.” Alice took a shuddered breath. “The babies came hard and fast as soon as they got her open. Screamin’ all of ‘em except one. He was the tiniest of them all.”

Clint watched her smile with the memory.

“I got that boy in my arms and she was cryin’ for that baby to live. I swore he would and I breathed into those lungs. He yelled after two breaths and it was like he said, “it’s about damn time someone paid attention to me”. That one’s a fighter.” Alice set her gaze on Clint. “She knew she was gonna lose her babies and as soon as I showed him to her, she told the room only way anyone’d take that baby was over her dead body. Then I promised.”

“What, Alice? What’d you promise?”

“She’d leave with that baby if I had any say about it. The ferocity in her was like a lioness protecting her last cub. That man of hers relented. I think he figured there’d be more babies to give them.”

“What happened to the others?”

Alice shrugged her shoulders. “They got placed and adopted out, I’m sure.”

Clint’s heart sunk. There was nothing to point him in the right direction. Knowing his mother had fought so hard for him and that this woman had saved his life made him thankful despite the shit his father had brought down on them all.

“What was that place?” Alice muttered.

His attention was right on her and Clint leaned forward eager to know.

“Thinger, Thinker…no. Thatcher.” She nodded. “Thatcher Adoption Services. Pretty sure that’s the name.”

“Thank you.”

Alice studied him. “It’s you, isn’t it? The man who flies like Robin Hood.”

“Yeah,” Clint said with a smile. “You saved me.”

Her gnarled fingers touched his and Clint returned the affection.

“You and my mother. I guess my father, too, in a way.”

“He ain’t your father.”

“Are you sure?”

“I remember because of what they called the donor.”

“What’d they call him?”

“The Survivor. Whoever he was, he was special.”

 

~*~

 

It was late afternoon by the time Clint returned to the office where Clint and Skye were working. He moved to the sofa and collapsed on it feeling the tiredness seep into his bones.

Phil saw the emotional toll the investigation was taking on Clint. Without looking at Skye, he said, “Skye, we’ll finish this up tomorrow.”

“Sure, AC.”

She was getting her things together when Clint said her name.

“Skye.”

“Yeah.”

“Thatcher Adoption Services.”

She gave Clint a bit of a smile, glanced at Phil before getting her laptop.

“I should have something by tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Skye,” Phil said.

After she was gone, Phil sat next to Clint. “Are you okay?”

“Toughest nice old lady I ever met,” Clint answered. “She was there when it happened. Made sure Momma got to leave with me.”

“She sounds incredible.”

Clint took Phil’s hand in his. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When we get put out to pasture, make sure it’s got wheelchair access up a tree or something.”

Phil’s smile was a loving one. “You wouldn’t accept anything less.”

“That place looks terrible, Phil. It needs money and more staff.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, but Alice is happy there because she’s found a way to be useful despite not being able to walk or use her hands. She likes it there.”

“You’re exhausted, Clint. I ordered dinner from that Lebanese place you like. You can take a hot shower before it gets here.”

“Wash my back?” Clint asked with a wink.

“Planned on it.”

~*~

 

It never failed to amaze Clint just how loving Phil was when they were alone together. They were never much for PDA, but his husband always seemed to know exactly what he needed just at the right time.

After a relaxing shower of washing one another, Phil and Clint ate dinner while slow rock played in the background. They spent a few hours catching up on one of Phil’s reality shows and once in bed, Clint took the initiative and proceeded to give his husband a blowjob for the record books.

He’d grinned with Phil’s cock in his mouth as he heard his lover go through every expletive in the book which included several foreign words that Clint had yet to understand. Once his husband was euphorically satisfied and ready for him, Clint crawled on top of him and proceeded to fuck Phil into the mattress. Nothing turned Clint on more than seeing the hunger for more in Phil’s eyes. They held on to one another and once Clint felt Phil spill between their bodies, he let himself come into the willing body beneath him.

Clint eased out and moved to Phil’s side lying on his stomach uncaring of the wet spot. His eyes closed as he felt Phil pull him close and succumbed to the exhaustion.

 

~*~

 

The following morning Clint was well-rested and refreshed. Breakfast consisted of bacon, eggs and toast with Phil hovering near the coffee pot eager for a fresh cup. They’d sat down when Skye arrived hugging her laptop.

“Have a seat, Skye,” Phil said.

Clint smirked. Phil had taken it upon himself to see to Skye’s eating habits and overall health. The girl had no family and Phil stepped into the role without a second thought.

“As long as we’re not repeating the cinnamon roll disaster of ott nine,” Skye remarked as she took the chair next to Clint.

Phil’s eyes narrowed as he came over to join them. “That was a week ago.”

“Still the ninth and never again.”

“Skye, be nice,” Clint teasingly chided. “Phil can’t help he’s a disaster in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for cinnamon rolls to look like that,” Skye remembered. “How do you burn raisins anyway?”

“I never asked,” Clint told her. He took a bite of bacon. “You know, the cinnamon is supposed to go inside the dough before you roll it up.”

“It was a misstep,” Phil groused. He stabbed at the scrambled eggs and resented Clint for how perfect they were with the cheese. “I thought adding it later wouldn’t hurt.”

“Burned cinnamon, Phil,” Clint said with a shake of his head. “It took Jarvis two days to get the smell out of the place.”

When Clint and Skye giggled, Phil’s hard stare quieted them down almost immediately.

“If you two are finished,” Phil sharply told them. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Skye shifted her laptop and took out five file folders. She handed them to Clint. “Baby Boy Barton’s. Five of them to be exact.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clint opened up the top one and read the birth certificate.

“It’s pre-adoption certificates. The new ones will have their given names, new parents and other basic information,” Skye explained. “Thatcher Adoptive Services closed its doors less than a week after placing the babies. Most of the physical files were lost or destroyed.”

“It must’ve been rather sudden,” Phil surmised. “The clinic was making money hand over fist. There’s no reason for this adoption agency to close at the time.”

“Unless Momma’s unusual pregnancy was the reason,” Clint guessed. “To hear Alice tell it, everyone was pretty rattled. Some even quit their jobs.”

“It’s possible your mother was making threats if she didn’t walk out with you, Clint.” Phil took a drink of his coffee and a thought occurred to him. “She could’ve blown their entire operation.”

“Be that as it may,” Skye said. “It’ll take a while to track down the adoption records to match those certificates and it won’t be easy.”

“They’re not here in the city,” Clint said looking at the next certificate.

“Not only that, I’m having to get kind of,” Skye shifted her eyes from Clint to Phil. “creative.”

“Illegally, you mean.” Phil set his cup down. “Skye…”

“AC, there’s no other way around it unless you want to take this public by suing every state in the country.”

“No way,” Clint said adamantly. “This stays between us!”

“Clint, Skye…I agree. I don’t have to like it. SHIELD’s crossed more lines to get less. The security issues alone would give SHIELD cause to move forward on this either way. I’d rather keep Fury and Hill out of it.”

“Okay,” Skye grimly smiled. “I’ll get the program running and hopefully it’ll be faster than grass growing.”

“Skye.” Clint turned to her. “Is there anything in those records about the sperm donor?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Some kind of reference number, identifying characteristics…”

“Clint, there isn’t anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Thanks.”

Phil got up to refill his cup. “Clint, maybe you need to talk to Alice again. She might remember something.”

“No, she said the higher-ups were very secretive about the donor. She only knew him by what they called him. The Survivor.”

“Sounds kind of mutanty,” Skye commented.

“Not a mutant,” Clint replied pointing to himself. “Right boss?”

“SHIELD tested Clint when he was recruited,” Phil answered. He went back to the table and sat. “Seems to me though, we might be able to tackle it genetically speaking.”

“That’s way out of my league,” Skye remarked.

Phil looked across the table at Clint. “We should talk to Bruce.”

“Right.” Clint shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He needed to do something.

“One of his degrees is in genetics and we can trust him,” Phil offered.

“Yeah, and Tony gets wind of it,” Clint told him. “You said yourself that we’re keeping Jarvis out, Phil.”

“We shouldn’t be surprised to hit a roadblock, Clint. Bruce might be able to isolate certain genes and run them against other samples.”

“Including over 300 million people in the country. Hell, why don’t we try the other seven billion around the world, Phil.”

“It’s unlikely you’ll ever find out, but it’s a shot.”

“Okay, we’ll do it,” Clint relented. He needed answers. Besides, the donor’s identity was not a priority.

 

~*~

 

Fortunately, Tony Stark was in Malibu when Clint and Phil went to see Bruce. Telling him everything they’d learned so far was easier than they expected, but the surprise on his face was quite telling.

“Wow,” Bruce said removing his glasses. “This is…”

“Normal for us,” Clint finished.

“I suppose it is.” He skimmed through the medical files and sighed. “You’re right. The infants are identical. Genetics was a largely unexplored field at the time, but there were always a few trying to push the envelope.”

“You know someone?” Phil asked.

“Stories, mostly. Probably bedtime stories to keep mad scientists like me in line,” Bruce joked. “I can look at Clint’s DNA and see if anything jumps out, genetic characteristics that are outside the norms.”

“Like hair and eye coloring,” Clint said.

“Something like that, but more specific. Only so much training can make you the world’s greatest marksman, but the talent, the gift, likely comes from something much deeper along with your speed and other factors.”

“You can isolate those?” Phil asked.

“Maybe, but I need something to compare them against. I need one of…” Bruce picked up one of the files. “them.”

“We’ve got the same genes, Bruce.”

“There are six of you and it’s possible one or more of you don’t have the exact genetic markers. If that’s the case, then we might be able to find a match by isolating them. DNA databases are quite extensive these days. It’s a long shot, but a decent place to start.”

“And if these markers came from my mother?” Clint asked.

“I should be able to narrow down what came from her with what you’ve given me.” Bruce placed the records on the scanning table and a robot went to work on them. “I’ll need Jarvis.”

“That means Tony Stark,” Clint sighed. He shot a look at Phil who only shrugged his shoulders.

“Tony not finding out is like expecting the sun not to rise tomorrow,” Bruce said with an easy smile.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Phil said. “Let us know if you find anything.”

After they left, Phil sent Clint to the range. His husband needed to exert some energy and they were at the point of waiting for the information to come in. Clint needed to stay busy. Skye was already making headway and once the identities of the five infants were discovered, Phil would have an enormous task ahead of him. Clint would have to find a way to make contact. His emotions were too intermingled with the entire investigation.

Phil found the number on his cell phone and dialed.

“I need you to come in.”

 

~*~

 

It was time.

Phil took a nervous breath while Skye was on her laptop. Clint had just finished on the range and Natasha was waiting for him at the loft. Bruce was already settled in a seat and texting from his phone. Stark was still tied up in Malibu and Phil had no doubt that Jarvis would be recording the meeting for posterity. Phil would allow it.

The door to the conference room opened and Clint came in with Natasha close behind. She took a seat next to Bruce.

“Ready?” Phil asked.

“No.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “Not all good news, I take it.”

“There are still gaps in the backgrounds,” Phil explained. “Some information has been difficult to come by. Plus, there’s one…”

“Yeah,” Clint interrupted. He yanked out the chair closest to Phil and sat. “Let’s get the ball rolling.”

Phil nodded at Skye. “Go head.”

The first photo appeared and the room stilled. No one expected such a strong resemblance.

  


  


“Cory Lambert,” Phil began. “He’s currently a tracker with the US Wildlife Service. His adoptive parents were killed in a car accident eight years ago. He was married to Wilma Lambert and they had two children. One daughter, Emily and a son, Casey. Prior to his employment he was an outfitter and before that in the Marines for six years in Recon.”

“Recon,” Bruce said. “Similar to what Clint did as an agent of SHIELD.”

“Yes, Bruce,” Phil answered. “Lambert’s military record indicated he and his unit conducted a variety of black ops around the world. Much of it involved the drug cartels in South America and a few more were eyes only meaning less than a dozen had knowledge of those missions.”

“Sounds like we’re related,” Clint commented.

“Phil, you said he was married?” Natasha asked.

“Yes, they divorced a few years ago after…” Phil shot a look at Clint. “Their daughter, Emily, went missing and her body was found months later after the winter thaw. No investigation has been able to ascertain what circumstances led to her death.”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint muttered. He shifted in his seat. “How old was she?”

“Clint…

“Phil, how old?” Clint asked his voice harsh.

“Sixteen. She’d been accepted into a summer writing program at Colorado State before…” Phil took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Clint.”

“His daughter,” Clint answered. “His pain.”

“Lambert is currently living outside of Lander, Wyoming.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Next one, Skye.”

This version of Clint wore sunglasses.

  


  


“William Brandt,” Phil said. “His adoptive parents are retired and living in DC. He’s an only child. Graduated high school at the top of his class. Unmarried and no children. Skye was only able to find this one photo of him at a train station in London.”

“That’s it, Phil?” Clint leaned forward. “You got a whole background on Lambert.”

“The only explanation for the lack of intel is William Brandt may work for an alphabet,” Phil offered. “It’s either that or…”

“Or an up and comer bad guy we’ll be sending to jail,” Skye joked.

“Not funny,” Phil retorted.

“It is poetic, though, boss.”

Phil sighed. “Next.”

Another photo of a Clint popped up of a soldier with a cigarette in his mouth.

  


  


“William James,” Phil began.

“Shit,” Clint blurted. “It’s not bad enough that we look alike and now some of us are sharing fucking names.”

“He did three tours in Iraq in EOD,” Phil continued. “He’s divorced with a child he pays monthly support to. There were noted issues in his 201 File regarding disobeying orders, leaving post without authorization and reckless behavior for the most part. His military awards are extensive and he’s credited with disarming countless explosives ordinance and saving lives.”

“A real hero,” Skye said.

“He’s currently living in Houston working bomb disposal,” Phil finished.

Clint shook his head. “Marine Recon, potential spy and a bomb expert. Bruce, you’re going to have your work cut out for you if any of them don’t have the same markers.”

“It’s a helluva group,” Bruce agreed. “Getting any of them here is going to be the challenge.”

“The fourth one likely won’t be that easy,” Phil said. He nodded at Skye.

A video clip of a pool table with an arm tattooed with the letters “GAMBLE” was widened to show a younger version of Clint with a smirk on his face.

  


  


“Let me guess,” Clint said with a sharp grin. “Pool shark.”

“LA SWAT,” Phil replied. “At least during that time. We’ve little to no background on him. Brian Gamble was a top sniper for SWAT. He left in disgrace after a hostage situation went bad and then made a daring attempt at breaking Alex Montel out of the LAPD's custody.”

“I remember something about that,” Bruce said. “He offered a million dollars for someone to get him out.”

“On the surface it appears Gamble made the attempt,” Phil replied.

“It was more than that?” Natasha asked.

“Yes. Skye, next slide.”

A photo taken from a zoom lens appeared with the same individual on a beach.

  


  


“He was spotted at Venice Beach. You can thank Stark for this one, Clint.”

“How’d he manage to get away?” Bruce asked. “It was a failed operation.”

“From what I’ve gathered this one contracted with an alphabet. It was all part of an elaborate operation to get Montel. The CIA paid a hefty amount of money.”

“Fucking spooks,” Clint bit out.

“Gamble was approached after his firing. He’s been living in a beach house paid for by them. One of the pilots who aided the operation works for SHIELD.”

“Nice,” Clint remarked. He turned his head when Skye closed her laptop then looked to Phil.

“The last one, Sgt. Kenneth Kitsom, standard infantryman did a tour in Iraq. Clint, he was killed by a roadside bomb November 17, 2003.”

“Damn it.” Clint rubbed his eyes.

“He was from Reno, Nevada.”

“He was never adopted, Clint,” Skye reluctantly added. “He was placed in a group home.”

“How’d you find him?”

“There was one file from Thatcher Adoption Services," Skye explained. He was placed in a foster home in Nevada, but as he grew older....”

When she paused, Clint said,"Skye, go ahead."

"Clint, he was placed in a home for special needs children that were considered unadoptable." 

Clint shot out of his seat and stormed out of the room. No one moved for a moment and it was Phil who finally spoke.

“Thank you, Skye.”

 

~*~

 

Clint was on the roof looking over the city. It took a year or two for him to come up here and enjoy being up high without the memories of Loki assailing him, but now New York was back to it’s original form for the most part. Now, all he thought about were these men who all wore the same face, with the same knack for running into danger where angels feared to tread.

Hearing the door opening behind him, Clint expected Phil or Natasha. When he looked over his shoulder he was surprised to see Sam Wilson headed his way.

“Not a good time, Sam.” Clint turned back to the city.

“I heard.” Some stopped next to Clint and looked ahead. “You really think word wouldn’t get out about Operation Sextuplet.”

Clint then laughed. “Fucking terrible name.”

“The worst,” Sam chuckled. “Skye knows it is, but she can’t stop saying without breaking down in fits.”

“One’s dead,” Clint sighed. “The one that nobody wanted died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Still trying to wrap my head around all this and I got nothing.”

“You’re going to see them, right?”

“I don’t know. Not even sure if we can find them all. Hell, they’re liable to think I’m some plant or game to get at them.”

“There’re ways around it,” Sam mumbled.

“What?” Clint turned. Sam had a look on his face. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I had another life before this one,” Sam began. He took a photo from his pocket and stared at it. “Before pararescue, I did some OED work as a cover for the DOD.”

The photo was held out and Clint took it. Sam and William James were in the picture. Sam was fitting the man with equipment.

  


  


“I don’t understand.”

“My cover was JT Sanborn. The DOD needed to know how our explosives were getting in the hands of the insurgents. James never knew.”

“What’s he like?”

“Crazy as shit,” Sam said with a smile. “You’d have to be for that job. Played hard and worked harder to save anyone he could. The last time I saw him he was set for home, but I got word he signed up for another tour. The mess had to have taken a toll.”

“Not enough. Phil said he’s doing bomb disposal in Houston.”

“That’s James.” Sam took the picture back. “I’ll make a copy for you.”

“Is this your way of telling me I should go see him?”

“Is this your way of asking me to do it instead?” Sam grinned. “Listen, man, James loved the lone ranger bit not just for the rush, but also because he’s never trusted anyone else to do it right. He did his damn level best to disconnect from people because they got hurt and he blamed himself. Sounds like somebody we know, right?”

“Fuck you,” Clint said with a soft grin. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Coulson and Natasha are fixing breakfast for dinner. Better get down there before Skye gets all the pancakes and Phil burns down your kitchen.”

When Clint got to the loft, Natasha was at the stove and Phil was at the table. His husband, half covered with flour looked up with a gentle smile. This he wouldn’t trade for anything.


End file.
